Colluders and Stepford Wives

I’ve got the girl positive music blaring, and it is now time to let off a little steam. When it comes to misogynistic men, I generally consider them a lost cause. I have seen rabid dogs that I would rather converse with. Of course they will claim that they only really want equality, however in actuality what they want is to hold on to their power. This is not surprising, as no group in history has willingly given up their power without a struggle. My goal is to attack them at their root. Just like most things in this world, women form the support network for these angry, inane twits. They point to their colluders and stepford wives as evidence that they don’t really hate women. Look, I can say cunt, and my deluded, Stockholm syndrome girlfriend is fine with it. It’s just a word. See you are just a whiny feminist. See how grateful she is to be in the presence of my handsome dick. Now watch me puff out my chest, and pluck the one hair I have growing, that is a testament to my masculine power…Unga bunga babe.

If you want to knock these idiots off of their pedestals, who we need to go after are the colluders. These twisted freaks are so used to gender performativity that if they were forced to do the support work that women traditionally perform they would be lost. The world would be so much better off, if they would just stick to their ritualistic circle jerks, and allow the rest of the rationale people to get on with it.

These stepford wives not only perform the maintenance work that is necessary for the support of the informal and formal economy, they parrot the discourse of their oppressors. Just like the house slaves, of the antebellum south they wrongly identify with their masters. Guess what, no matter how many times you bend, kneel and pray you will not grow a dick. Sure it can do neat tricks but so can a vibrator, and you never have to tell it to move to the right.

Having a woman centered agenda does not mean that you have to hate men, and it does not mean that you have to turn your back on them. A man can be your friend, son, partner,your favorite fuck stick for all I care, but making women a priority means that men no longer get to run the show. Making women a priority says I care about things like rape, domestic abuse, employment equity, poverty, family and education. Do the aforementioned matter to some men…yes, but for the majority of men they do not have the same totalizing effect as they do on women.

From the moment your mother handed you your first little purse, and told you that good girls cross their legs, you have been trained to believe that ‘woman’ constitutes one thing, subservient to the will of men. You don’t need to be a sinner or a saint, but you do need to decolonize your mind. Ask yourself who benefits largely from your labor, and dedication. Why is it that women are sluts or whores, and men just spread their wild oats? How come a man is a king of his castle, and a woman is only a goddess when she is on her knees? Why are your genitals considered foul, and a mans are a symbol of strength? (though a swift kick would disprove that)

I’m going to let you in on a little known secret, women matter. Despite the hegemonic role that men play globally, the labor of women is necessary to keep this little blue planet from going completely off kilter. I know that everywhere you turn women are minimized and reduced to accessories, but we are the foundation of all that matters. It is on our shoulders that civilizations have risen and fallen, and it is from our wombs that life continues to be nurtured. It is only on the urging of the feminist movement that men have increased the time that they dedicate to child rearing. Now they scream about equal access, so quickly forgetting that there was a time when the average father didn’t even know how to change a diaper, or boil a pot of water. But that was the manly way…hunt, and then abdicate domestic responsibilities. I know that you have been raised to value the hunk of raw meat that was provided, but remember that slab of meat remained inedible until it was cooked by a woman.

It is comforting to fall back on traditional belief patterns because it is easier than fighting the status quo, and not all of those that enter battle return unscathed. When, strolling down the aisles at Zehrs so anesthetized that you don’t know whether or not you are choking from the bile of dissent rising in your throat, or the anger from being unable to undo the life long straight jack you were fitted with, just for having the supposed misfortune of being born with a vagina, remember you have an image to maintain. Good girls don’t resist, good girls are wives and mothers without an identity of their own. Don’t get angry at the injustice because then you will be nothing but a dirty feminist.

Swallow those salty tears as rape apologists tell you that all women ask for it anyway. Turn your back when a husband slaps his wife around for the thousandth time, and the police just walk away. Bury your pride because if you end up a single mother when your hunky hero trades you in for a younger model, that trait will do you no good when you apply for food stamps. Finally make sure that you don’t miss your pole dancing lessons because you know that it is your responsibility to remain sexy and in shape, while he diligently works to increase his second chin. Most of all don’t listen to that insistent voice in your head that keeps saying, is that it, did I take a wrong turn somewhere? Life is not somewhere over the rainbow. Wake up! Considering the alternative, being a dirty feminist might not be so bad.